


im fuckin awwesome just the wway i could be

by legendarypieceoffic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anorexia, Eridan is the master of self delusion, Gen, Self Harm, Therapy, Troll Baker Act
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarypieceoffic/pseuds/legendarypieceoffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan holds himself to a higher standard than the rest of those dirt scrapers</p>
            </blockquote>





	im fuckin awwesome just the wway i could be

"Your picture is very nice. I didn't know you could draw like that."

He scowls at the older troll. "Of course you gotta have some kind kinda artistic know how if you're gonna be mappin' out the sea an' all."

"But the activity said to draw a picture of yourself. Where are you?"

"You're some kinda fuckin joker or blind. Look, I'm not going to repeat myself again. This is my empire, that is my fuckin kickass hive, that is all the loot I'll be swipin' off the corpses of all those dirt scrapin-"

"Yes," she interrupts softly, "but where are you?"

"FUCK, all right, FINE!" He shouts, tearing up the picture. "I'll draw another shitty drawin since my first one wasn't up to your oh so high and mighty standards, oh royal highness!"

"It isn't about my standards," says the counsellor, "picture therapy is a way of letting you draw out how you feel."

"i don't fuckin need to draw how I feel, Oh-kay? I'm not an autistic kitty cat girl livvin in a cavve."

"You don't have to draw if you don't want to, but if you ever feel-"

"You know what? Why don't you go fuck yourself, little miss pale hooker or whatever the fuck those traitorous land slurpers decided they were gonna force on me!' He storms out, overly aware of the way his cape isn't there to billow behind him or how his scarf doesn't catch the wind and fly out like a streamer of awesome.

He doesn't need this. It's absolutely unacceptable how far his so called friends have made him fall, dressed in his simple black shirt and pants, sea dweller bling locked away from him until he's discharged by that dirt guzzling quack of a doctor what wouldn't know the picture of mental health if it was up close and shooting him in the eye.

He doesn't expect a bunch of land dwellers and a princess with her head in the clouds to understand what he's trying to accomplish. Somewhere beneath the rolls of fat lies the dignified figure of Orphaner Dualscar, chiseled and strong, master of the tide and terror to all things what dwell on land. All he needs to lose is a few more pounds. Just a few more pounds and he'll finally cut a figure worthy of a sea dweller, strong and proud, the kind of figure the land scum will cower in fear from.

In the back of his mind, a voice whispers, "only thing under the rolls of fat is Eridan Ampora, pathetic fuckin loser who couldn't keep a kismesis if the two of them were last trolls in the world and the drones were pounding down the door."

He punches the wall until his knuckles bleed, since they blunted his claws and put some kinda resin or something over his teeth so he wouldn't bite the shit out of himself again. 

When he's calm again, he runs to the bathroom and sticks a finger down his throat. Fucking dirt scraping bastards think they can get in the way of his new kickass royal figure do they? Well, he thinks, as his stomach contracts, he is nothing if not stubborn.


End file.
